MY RIDE HOME
by sillym3
Summary: In the end, all we need is someone to bring us home. (Sara & Grissom)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : Hmmm, it has been a while, a long while. I started writing fanfiction in 2008, I guess. One name that comes to my mind every time someone praise my fanfiction is Sylvie. She has helped me in so many way. Thank you, Sensei.**

**MY RIDE HOME**

CHAPTER 1

The alarm rang. Despite the strong urge to bury her phone ten layers deep beneath the ground Sara opened her eyes.

She pulled it out of the thick cover, swiped the screen to stop the shrill and sat up, only to flop back on to the bed again.

Oh, how she would do anything to get another hour of good sleep.

One full minute of pep-talking herself later she woke up, stumbling into the bathroom after not so unintentionally glancing at the calendar.

It was a **big** day.

She needed to get ready for the big day.

The weather was cold. The hot shower felt nice on her skin. She dressed hurriedly before spending a lifetime to get her hair all perfect and ready.

Yeah. With that amount of hairspray a snowstorm could come to Vegas today and her hair would stay still in all its glory.

She smiled at the mirror as she put on a pair of her favorite earrings. Age had given her a few wrinkles here and there but she loved how mature and full of wisdom she appeared.

One more look at her reflection told her she needed something more. The dusty rose dress was cut a little too low for her neck to be bare. A nice necklace would be perfect and she just knew which one to wear.

She searched the many drawers to find that particular item of jewelry. She rummaged through every possible container before it dawned on her.

By dawned she meant something akin to the sky fell on her, along with the stars, the moon and asteroids, and every planet with its satellites.

She weighed up whether to wear the necklace. She weighed up whether going to the ceremony at all. Hell, she suddenly felt like not leaving the apartment for the next century.

Just so she could mourn, curl, cry, and get depressed.

But she had been there. She had done that enough in the past. After all these years she wouldn't let a necklace drag her back to that hell, would she?

Would she?

She moved closer to the closet by the bed, slowly like a cheetah does its prey. When she tiptoed to retrieve a leather box from the top shelf, creepy drum rolls were mentally heard.

She over dramatized the whole situation again, of course. But damn she had the right to.

Her hand shook a bit, her eyes were averted, the thought in her mind quieted when she opened the box. She reached in through photographs, letters, and all the precious little things from her wonderful past.

It felt like being electrocuted when her fingertips made contact with the velvet little box inside.

The ring.

She didn't need to see it to remember what it felt like to have it circling her finger, to remember him.

She moved on with the mission though. Once her hand reached the necklace she pulled it out and closed the box with lightning speed.

A heavy sigh escaped as she sat back on the bed, gently clasping the necklace behind her neck.

Her fingers played with the pendant, smiling bitterly. The memories attached to the crescent shaped locket were mostly wonderful.

Memories she'd like to throw into the seven seas yet she'd never had the courage to sweep off of her fractured heart.

Today something would start anew. Today a new memory would be created and hopefully overwrite the old ones.

She'd make the best out of today.

She'd be a new Sara.

She stood in front of the mirror for one last time, checking for any flaws. Did she look good enough for a wedding?

Yes.

Purse in hand, feet in seven inches heels, she was about to open the door when her phone rang.

Unknown number.

"Hello."

"Hi."

She knew that 'hi' far too well.

"Sara?"

She needed to sit. She needed something to hold on to. She needed the world to stop spinning.

"Yeah."

"This is Gil."

"Gil?"

Gil. Gil. Gil.

"Yeah, Gil."

She grasped for words. She grasped for air. Her heart almost fell into pieces all over again.

"Sara?"

"Yeah,"

"Help me."

"Huh?"

"Look outside your window."

In normal circumstances she'd ask why. In normal circumstances she'd scream and kick and swear and hurl profanities in every possible direction.

She stayed silent instead.

Six years had turned her anger to dust.

"Please, look outside your window." He begged.

Didn't she use to love it when he begged?

She opened the blind, peeked down to see a man in a suit and tie, standing next to a silver car.

Gil.

"Hi," The man waved, "I wonder if I could drive you."

Could he?

Would she let him?

"Nick," she gulped, "Nick promised to pick me up."

A kid riding a pink bike passed and Sara could almost hear the wheels turning.

"I've asked him to break that promise."

"He agreed?" Stupid question.

"He did."

"Okay." After the ceremony, there would be a bullet in Nicholas Stoke's chest.

Another kid on a bike passed, yelling something.

"Sara?"

"I'll just take a cab."

"Please,"

Something in her crumbled into nothingness. Something in her gave up.

"Wait a minute."

**TBC**

**So, what do you think about the short intro? I hope you enjoy the first chapter. I hope you can tell me in a review. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for all the reviews and following alerts for the first chapter. I'm a happy writer.

I hope Sylvie is as happy as I am. This story won't go this far without her helping hands.

Oh and this silly writer forgot to tell you all in the first chapter that this story is (short of) a continuation of Sylvie's story **Married Love. **Sorry.

**MY RIDE HOME**

**Chapter 2**

He told her in February.

It was the month of romance. The streets were adorned with pink hearts and paper cupids, couples sent flowers and cards to each other, but he'd cut the ties by the phone.

A sixteen-years-old would have done better than him.

Every man would have done better than him.

But that was the main reason he had done it at the first place.

She deserved a better man than him, a man who wouldn't let distance speak louder than his feelings.

By December he was all skinny and gloomy and unhealthy.

In March he heard about a promising research into new treatment in Africa, a research involving a more holistic process rather than the pharmaceutical ones. He jumped at the chance to take part as test subject.

Their lawyers met in March too. It was a quick and clean process regarding money, townhouse, and other worldly possessions. Not to think of her as his possession took longer and left his heart in quite a mess.

The separation was further legalized when he shut her out of his life completely.

No phone. No mail. No extra wound to take care of.

God knows he would crumble if he ever took a look into her eyes again.

Two more years went by as he underwent various treatments and did almost everything to fill his empty heart but nothing, nothing, could ever wipe her out of his mind.

Then he found a wedding invitation on his desk.

He intentionally put the dusty copy of Moby Dick on top of the letter, having no intention to RSPV.

He could always use the excuse of being busy or being unhealthy.

He was busy. He was rather unhealthy. The new medication worked well, but he was still struggling for his life.

He was in no condition to attend a wedding.

But then something had happened.

Alexander, the designated driver at the facility, **had** recklessly driven their bus down to the bottom of a ravine.

His feet had got stuck, his nose had bled, his helper had died, he had no option but cry for help.

Help had come, after four hours.

Add another two hours to the equation for it wasn't easy to save people stuck in a bus down a two-hundred-foot ravine.

Those six hours spent doing nothing but recalling his decisions in life.

Those six hours ended with him making promises to himself.

Those hours brought him to today.

"Wait a minute."

Those three words she whispered on the phone were like an aria of love.

She'd agreed.

He leaned on the Mercedes, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled again.

Thank God, she'd agreed.

It took longer than a minute though.

Or it didn't.

Was he just restless in his own thought?

What if she changed her mind?

What if she asked someone else to pick her up and left by the back door?

What if he didn't stand a chance at all?

He paced.

He turned and checked himself on the car's window to avoid the anxiety.

Was his bowtie askew?

"Still couldn't figure that one out, huh?" Her voice sent a chill down his spine.

"Uh," He turned to face her, hands furiously trying to beat the tie into submission.

"Here," She came closer and reached.

He couldn't help but inhale the scent.

Shampoo. Perfume. A hint of soap and lotion. Hairspray?

She used hairspray these days?

Were those wrinkles in the corner of her eyes?

Did that thin scar by her earlobe exist before?

Why did she choose this dress? It exposed too much of her gorgeous neck and showed too much of her breasts.

Right. He didn't have a say in her choice of clothes anymore.

Was that the pendant he had given her eight years ago?

It was.

There was hope.

"There." She cut across his reverie.

"Thank you."

"Uh Oh, don't touch the tie, you'll ruin it again."

His hands stopped in mid-air. His eyes craved contact but hers were averted. For want of something else to do he straightened his jacket.

"We need to go now. I don't want to be late."

"Right," He opened the passenger door. "You look beautiful."

"I should do." She said rather somberly.

He made a nervous beeline to the driver seat. A cold reception was to be expected right? He was lucky there were no guns or knives involved.

"The Bellagio, right?" He tried.

The attempt to start a conversation died at her nod of the head.

"This car's a rental." He tried again. " It's the same model as my old car. My Mercedes, remember?"

Attempt number two was greeted by dead silence.

He was in the middle of composing attempt number three when she called his name.

"Gil." She didn't even look at him. "What do you want?"

"I want to attend a wedding." He deadpanned.

She threw him a sharp look. It was their first eye contact on that day, the kind of eye contact that cut and hurt.

He killed the engine, making a sudden stop at the roadside.

A trailer passed by and honked in protest, followed by a Camry and two SUVs, all honked.

"Gil! I can't be late."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Drive on then."

"Sara," He clasped her hand in his. She struggled. He didn't let go. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Their eyes met again.

His heart ached. Words filled his mind but he couldn't force them out.

He wished for her to read his mind, for his eyes to be the windows to his heart, for his feeling to be an open book.

He was there for her to read.

However, the unfortunate course of their relationship had let him know that no one can really read your mind, not even the one you fall in love with.

He knew he had to fight his way to her heart.

She said nothing for a moment. Then she gently set her fingers free.

"Apology accepted. Now go." Her eyes were on the road again.

"But,"

"Please,"

"Sara, I…"

"Whatever you want to say, say it while taking us to our destination."

He sighed, started the car and drove again.

"I shouldn't have done what I did to you Sara." After a few minutes, he found himself coherent again.

"No. You shouldn't have."

"At the time it seemed to be the best decision to make."

"I bet it did."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"The lack of intention didn't make it hurt less."

"We were so distant back then. We barely spoke to each other let alone saw each other."

"That wasn't solely my fault."

No one could hit so many mental walls in a conversation without running out of breath. Grissom let out a deep sigh. No one ever said this would be easy.

For them, nothing ever came easy.

"Listen Gil," She finally started something, "I don't really understand why you are coming to me right now. You let me go six years ago. You can't just show up one day and expect things to be all peachy."

He saw how she kept her hands fisted. He understood how angry she was right now.

But he wouldn't give up.

Not yet.

He still had one bullet in the chamber.

Even if using this last resort meant degrading himself into one selfish bastard, he'd use it.

He had to fight.

**To Be Continued**

What do you think? A little too angsty? Tell me in a review.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for all the feedback, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter just as much.

**MY RIDE HOME**

**Chapter 3**

"You can't just show up one day and expect things to be all peachy." If seeing him again made her heart ache, saying those words made her head spin.

She had imagined their rendezvous over and over again. She had ten different ways planned specifically to deal with this situation like a mature woman.

In her mind, she'd be all cool and accepting, forgiving and nice, just so he could see how much of a perfect person she is.

Yet all she wanted to do at that particular second was either jump out of the car or lash out at him.

And the look of pure guilt mixed with what she recognized as his best begging look didn't help her case.

She inhaled, exhaled, and inhaled again.

Oh, the price she would have been willing to pay for this to have happened on some other day – any other day.

Why did Nick let Grissom pick her up?

Why did she agree to ride with him in the first place?

The blame was on her this time, like the blame was on her years ago.

She was the one who gave up easily. She was the weak one. She knew that, had always been blaming herself for every wrong turn in their love life.

She had been the one who had left him with nothing but a kiss and a note because her sleep had been plagued with nightmares, because she could not survive the aftermath of being left to almost die in the desert.

She had been the one who had chosen to leave his side for a second time, because living in Paris hadn't been as satisfactory as the way it had been advertised, because she could not survive being a fully domesticated woman.

And then, she had been the one who hadn't put up a fight, the one who had done nothing but nod in silent tears at the divorce he offered over an intercontinental phone connection.

Oh, she was the one to blame alright. But it didn't mean he could come out of the blue to offer a truce and things suddenly became good again between them.

What did he expect from her anyway?

Did he come so she would drive with him into the sunset and live happily ever after?

Didn't he know such things only happened in fanfiction?

Did he come to patch her heart up then tear it down again and again? He **did** seem to have the skill to do that.

She looked up at the traffic ahead, a way of distracting her mind from thinking about her current companion.

The road was practically clogged with cars. A curse to the universe for such mean conspiracy escaped her lips.

She'd be late. Very-very late.

"I didn't come here to win you back."

Oh swell. It was the patch-up-tear-down mode then.

"I mean, I know it doesn't work that way."

"It doesn't work in any way, Gil. Trust me."

"When I said I wanted to let you go, when I said it's better for us to go separate ways, I did have your best interest in mind."

"I know. Who else knows my best interest better than you?" Sarcasm weighed her words and she oddly felt good and bad at the same time.

"However good my intention was, it wasn't fair to cut you off that way. And I'm here to fix that. I'm here-,"

"Have you ever thought that it's too late to fix anything you've said and done? Have you ever thought of the possibility that maybe-" She took a breather, telling herself not to let the words in her mind come alive.

"Maybe-," It felt like riding a bike with broken brakes though, "maybe I've moved on."

There she had said it.

Her last words seemed to hit the right spot. The conversation died a sudden death in the car.

She waited for any words from his end, stealing a glance or two in his direction. His focus was on the road ahead.

"Gil," she called after they made it through the intersection. Apparently something had happened to the traffic light. Or everybody was just in as much haste as they were.

"I hope we're not that late," His response was rather sad and Sara wondered if it was because of what she had said a few minutes ago.

"I hope so."

"You are too beautiful to be late today." He glanced at the rearview mirror right when Sara did too.

Their eyes met.

And Sara did see sadness in his blue eyes.

She felt guilty. So guilty.

Damn she hated feeling guilty.

She hated him more for always making her feel guilty.

She pinched her lips together, made a vow that no words would escape her lips for the rest of the trip.

"I, I was unwell back then." His words were a whisper. "I had this condition and I thought it was best if I kept you safe from harm while I still could do something about it."

"What?" So much for no more words coming out of her.

"I was sick and-"

"I can hear you well, Gil. You were saying that you divorced me because you had a condition." Despite the trembling she felt all over her body Sara managed to even out her tone.

Of all the reason why, this one hurt her the most.

How could he? Was that how little he thought of her? That she couldn't deal with a sick husband by her side?

"I had cancer, Sara. I **have** cancer."

She felt his hand on hers, his fingers searching hers. She could control the trembling no more.

It felt like she was stuck on a malfunctioning lift, speeding down to the ground floor.

All the pain she had been going through these past six years rooted on that one word : cancer.

Cancer.

Now she could see why.

She felt more betrayed than she had been six years ago.

"In sickness and in health, Gil. Till death do us part." She begged herself not to cry. "If the vow I said meant as much to you as it meant to me, you should know better than to end our marriage just because you have-." The word refused to leave her mouth.

"I never wanted to be a weight on your shoulder."

She yanked her hand away. "In sickness and in health." She said the words again, trying to make him understand.

Was there any good in making him understand at this point? Now?

Still, the disappointment of being pushed aside while his life was on the line hurt her bad. The disappointment of him making this decision for her while she could have done so much more, so much better than being a stranger for six years.

Her hand reached for the car's door. "Please stop."

"Sara."

"Please."

"We're close. I'd just-"

"Please."

The car stopped. She got out in haste, braving the remaining distance to where the wedding would take place.

Tears washed out her perfect make up. Bitterness took over her good mood. Her dress seemed to be not so perfect anymore. And the wind probably got her hair ruined.

Oh, how she wished she had stayed in bed instead.

**To Be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all the reviews and following-alerts. I couldn't be happier. Those kinds of support make me want to write more and more. I really wish time & place would allow.

Anyhow, have fun reading.

**MY RIDE HOME**

**Chapter 3**

"What have you done?"

There was no way of mistaking the owner of the voice for someone else. As Grissom entered the lobby, a vixen in a silver dress swayed her way toward him.

Catherine, age seemed to have no effect on her, grabbed his arm and guided him forward. "Sara came walking, obviously crying, fifteen minutes late, and Nick told me you are the one to blame."

No small talk needed then.

Grissom sighed, hoping it was enough to show regret.

Catherine went on regardless. "I shouldn't have given Greg your address."

"Maybe you shouldn't have."

"I thought you'd be here to attend the ceremony, to join in Greg's happiness. Not to ruin Sara's."

"I'm here to mend fences, Catherine." He was, wasn't he?

"By ruining someone's wedding?"

"I don't think fifteen minutes late warrants a ruined wedding."

"Well, if you knew the bride as I do, you wouldn't have the-," Catherine waved her hand in dismissal, " Let's go, we don't need to fill you in with the latest issue, not yet."

Grissom, mentally agreeing with Catherine, let himself be dragged toward one of the ballroom. The door opened into a hall full of people, all nicely seated in rows of chair, apparently waiting for something or someone.

And he knew exactly who that someone was.

He reached his seat on the second row, surviving hundreds of staring eyes, felt anxiety rise in his chest while his mind wondered what he would do next.

What would happen after the ceremony?

Where would he and Sara be in the end?

Jim Brass was on his left. He could only nod toward his old friend and several other close colleagues. Hodges slightly waved from the third row, seeing his hair had gone all grey made Grissom wonder if it was really too late for him to do whatever he wanted to do today.

Maybe he was too old to reach for some semblance of happiness. Maybe letting Sara go was his best decision.

Maybe time had done the entire walk while he was busy planning the talking part.

Music streamed into the room. Instead of the usual Canon in D or Bridal Chorus Grissom heard an unfamiliar song.

_Rock_. He inwardly smiled at Greg's choice.

He then glanced at the groom who was standing by the priest, looking completely different form the Greg he used to know.

_Time passed by. _He reprimanded himself. _Friends stay close. I should have __stayed__ close._

Groomsmen and bridesmaids took turns to walk down the aisle hand in hand. Yet in spite of all the gorgeousness he saw only Sara.

Her dusty rose dress flowed as she walked; her smile was wan but still had the power to make his heart ache. Her makeup was as good as when he had picked her up but he could imagine the red rimmed eyes underneath the cosmetic.

The bride then walked in, the long tail of the wedding dress crinkling as it swept the floor. Everyone else swiveled their heads to see but Grissom kept her eyes to the center of the stage.

Sara was his center of the stage.

She stood the furthest from the altar while to Grissom they were so close as if no one else was there in the room with them.

He couldn't help but walk down memory lane.

It felt like it was just yesterday when he had held her hand, standing side by side on the cape by the ocean, waiting for their own wedding ceremony to start.

It felt like it was just yesterday when wind had blown her hair, when he had tucked those short curls behind her ears while whispering love and devotion.

She had laughed back then, told him to hold his horses until the priest and witnesses had come and allowed them to exchange their vows.

He had defended his childish behavior by saying that there was no one but the seagulls watching.

To him, the quiet cape and the simple ceremony overruled every other magic moment in his life.

He didn't envy this great ballroom, the extended guess list, the flowers, the crystals and all.

He did envy the groom though.

If when he was Greg's age he had made the right choice, he and Sara wouldn't have had to have endured half their hardships.

And the way Greg showed off his bride to the world tonight; he had never given Sara such privilege. He probably would never have the chance to.

"Dearly beloved…," the priest started.

The salty taste of ocean air attacked his senses as he recalled when a long time ago another priest had stood before Sara and him, joined them in the sacred bind he had hoped would last forever.

He remembered watching Sara's lips as they had spoken the vows, as if every word that had come out of her had made its mark on his heart.

For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.

How could he forget?

How could he let go?

The ceremony in front of him got lost among happy thoughts, happy memories of their first night, their honeymoon, and their happy years together as a couple.

He couldn't recall when distance had taken over those good days. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when they had decided that living on different continents wouldn't harm their marriage.

The ache of having Sara slowly slip away was still gaping in his heart though. So did the ache of knowing that age had caught up with him, presenting him with a life-threatening disease.

At that time the only reasonable decision had been to let her slip away for good.

That time was six years ago. Time slipped away, people changed, decisions being reconsidered, and now he was here watching Greg affectionately recite his own wedding vows.

If only he could turn back time.

"You okay?" Catherine's whisper, and not-so gentle nudge, woke him up from his daydream.

"Yeah," he opened his eyes right to see a ghost of smile appear on Sara's face as Greg kissed his bride.

Oh, how he missed that kind of smile.

"Think you can make it to the reception?" Catherine stood as the newlyweds left the room, followed by the bridesmaids and the groomsmen.

Grissom's eyes never left Sara as she passed by; her feature was softened by the bouquet she was holding. The pink roses perfectly matched her dress.

The groomsman who walked beside Sara said something and she laughed, using the bouquet to cover her mouth.

She looked so lovely and her laughing expression was a treasure to see but Grissom's heart skipped a beat when he noticed that Sara and the groomsman were walking hand in hand.

"Grissom? Gil!" Catherine words penetrated his mind like a jolt of lightning. "You okay?"

'Yeah, yeah." He nodded like a fool; his eyes followed the couple exiting the ballroom. He shot up, eager to follow and find out more.

Brass came closer though, followed by Hodges, Henry, and a few others. They offered handshakes and chit-chat, a little catching up for the last six years and over.

He accepted. His mind might have been filled with Sara but his friends were also the reason why he had decided to attend the wedding.

Because in the end, even if he couldn't get a grip on an old romance, he didn't want to die alone.

**To Be Continued.**

So, can some of you guess where this story is heading to?


	5. Chapter 5

Fair warning : I consider this a sweet chapter but some of you might find this a little too angsty. Anyhow, I really hope you'll still find this an enjoyable reading material.

This chapter goes out to Sylvie, Jelly, and if she does exist: Chauncey.

**MY RIDE HOME**

**Chapter 5.**

"Earth to Miss to Miss Sidle."

She looked up, hoping the instant smile she managed to pull out was adequate. "Sorry."

"You okay?" His hold on her hand got tighter, his grasp on her waist loosened, then he twirled her once on the dance floor. "The wedding's too much? My step-sister's too much?"

"Leonard," This time she felt the smile rise from her heart. "I'm fine. Beside, Alecia has every right to be a little mad at any bridesmaid who's not punctual. It's her wedding day."

"If it's not Alecia, then it must be this man I see talking to the whole gang." He twirled her once more, directed her toward the large white tables by the dance floor. Her eyes now could see familiar faces on table 5.

She didn't need to see the scene actually. The image of Grissom talking to their friends had been pinned in her mind since the reception had started.

Half of her had wanted to join their table, to catch up and be nostalgic. The other half had been so glad she shared a table with Leonard and his family for she didn't think she could stomach another conversation with Grissom.

He had cancer. They were divorced because he had cancer.

How stupid was that?

"Sara," She felt Leonard's hand under her chin before their eyes met, "Is everything okay?"

The music faded away as she let out a heavy breath. "Yes. I just…didn't expect him to be here today."

"Do you want to go somewhere else?"

She smiled bitterly, "Alecia would kill us both if we did a runner."

"We can always count on Greg to put the spitfire off." His eyes twinkled as he smiled, "He owes us that much. If we hadn't introduced him to Alecia, none of this would have happened."

Sara laughed, eyeing the newlyweds who were still dancing so close to each other, seemingly unaware that the music had stopped.

The sweetness of dancing with your spouse, to feel like you both owned the world.

Her mind wandered back to when she had had her first dance as husband and wife with Grissom. The sweet moment spent on a cape by the ocean. No music but the sound of waves crashing and birds flocking.

The memory had been hard to erase. The sweetness lingered in her mind even though she was with someone else.

Someone else?

She looked up at the man in front of her.

Leonard embodied a perfect man for any woman. Since their chance meeting two years ago, he'd never let Sara down.

But right now her mind was filled with Grissom, Grissom and Grissom again.

And she hated herself for that.

"Come on," She felt his hand circle her waist, and let herself be guided to a less-populated corner of the ballroom. When he offered a glass of champagne she took it and drank the liquid in one swift move.

"Whoa." Leonard took the glass from her hand, swapping it with another glass from the tray a passing waitress brought, "Take this one slowly, please. The last time we indulged, you spent the next day passed out in bed."

She smirked at his tease, recalled the incident he mentioned with a slightly elevated mood. He did know how to lighten up situations.

"Sara," He closed the distance between them in one step, taking her hands in his and giving them a kiss. "You're not wearing the ring."

The mood changed suddenly. She felt like a fish running out of water.

"Does it count as a no?"

The oxygen in the room seemed to be eliminated by his question and she suddenly felt at loss for a perfect reply.

She had gone to sleep with a perfect yes in her mind last night. She had wanted to start something new today.

She had wanted to give herself a second chance.

But Grissom had come and now doubts filled her heart.

What should she tell Leonard?

People chatted behind them; voices seemed to turn into white noise as she refocused on the man in front of her.

A waitress passed by and she noticed her own hand trembling as she returned her half empty glass of champagne.

Leonard leaned his shoulder against the wall, extending one hand out to her. "Can I see the ring?"

In a more relaxed situation Sara would have teased him by saying that she didn't have the ring with her. They would have had the usual fun banter and play-fighting she loved so much.

But she had kept the blue box closed since the day he had handed it to her, feeling its presence on a daily basis as she weighed the option of marrying him. There was no way to be relaxed when a life-altering decision burdened your shoulder.

She opened her purse, retrieved the box and kept the closed box in her open hand. Maybe he could make the decision for both of them.

Leonard smiled but did not take the box.

"When I said I wanted to marry you. When I said I believed the ring belongs to your finger. I meant it."

If only he knew that a few hours ago, she'd had every intention to wear the ring on her finger for the rest of her life.

"I might have said that I'd wait until today for your answer but to be honest, I think I'd wait forever for it."

Now she just didn't know, didn't understand what to do.

The corner of her eye caught Grissom talking with Catherine. Some part of her wanted to be there for the man who meant too much. Some part of her wanted to know more about his disease, wanted to support him until the very end.

Some part of her was still Grissom's wife.

The box felt heavy on her now sweating palm.

"You know," Leonard straightened himself, taking the box from her. "The first day we met, I knew I wanted our future to be written on the same page."

He opened the box, the diamonds on the ring gleamed under the lights. "But it's impossible to write a future together if one of us still has her hands tied to the past."

She searched his eyes, expecting to meet anger and disappointment in them.

His shone nothing but sadness though and did nothing but make her feel much more guilty.

"Leonard, I'm so sorry, I-"

"If I ask you again right here right now, you will still have no answer, won't you?" While his hand toyed with the box his eyes stared into hers.

Strangely, she could not avert her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"He left you, Sara. He hurt you." He took a deep breath, "Bad."

Bad.

A few years back Sara would have used a stronger word to describe what he had done to her.

A few years back she had no knowledge of what had really been going on.

"It took you years to heal. Are you sure you want to go down that road again?"

She asked herself the same question and found no answer.

"It's just," He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't want to see you hurt again."

The sincerity in his words felt like a welcomed breeze in her confused mind.

No.

She wouldn't let herself be hurt again, would she?

She just wanted to fix things.

Her separation with Grissom seemed so wrong even before she knew the reason behind it. Now she just wanted things to be good again.

She just wanted to be there for Grissom, even for a while.

Right?

She swallowed, "Grissom, he-"

Leonard cut her short, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her like never before. "I don't know what happened. I don't think I want to know."

Sara flinched when she felt the box being pressed back into her hands. "Leonard?"

"Keep the ring. It has been yours since day one. Just promise me you won't let him make you cry again."

When he finally let go of her, both her heart and arms felt numb. Tears almost spilled from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Leonard. I'm so sorry. " The box was still on her open palm.

She stood still, still had no clue as to what to do.

"Now go, do what you need to do." He gently nudged her away.

It felt like he had lifted one burden off her shoulder. It felt like she had torn his heart mercilessly. It felt like a whirlwind and she was stuck in the middle.

She felt bad. Awful. But somehow her feet moved of their own accord.

"I'm sorry." She gave one last look, one last apology.

"Don't be." He smiled bitterly. "Just remember that, in the end, someone _will_ still be waiting for you."

She nodded, walking away.

Catherine was standing alone by the bar. Grissom was nowhere Sara's eyes could see.

"Looking for Grissom?" Catherine pre-empted her question and Sara was thankful for that.

"Yes."

"He's outside." She pointed toward the door wide open.

**To Be Continued**

So, some of you ready to hurl rotten tomatoes my way yet?


	6. Chapter 6

Dear readers, thank you so much for the tremendous support. I'm sorry if I couldn't comply with most of you who want this to end a little less angsty. This is it, the final chapter.

**MY RIDE HOME**

**Chapter 6.**

He was slumped on one of the plush chairs in the lobby. His knees felt so weak he didn't think reaching the valet parking was an option

_So, this is it then. _

He tried to talk himself out of the depressing feeling that he should have seen this coming.

Oh, he had seen it coming.

You couldn't just leave someone high and dry for so long and hope she would still be where you had left her.

Catherine's words from a few minutes ago echoed in his mind like an annoying morning alarm, forcing him to wake up.

"Yes, t_hey are an item." _

"_They met five years ago." _

"_Rumor has it he has proposed."_

"_His family loves her."_

Catherine had supplied more backstory than he cared to hear. Grissom was glad that most of the information had been muted by his faltering heart.

She was already with someone.

She was already happy with someone.

In between conversations with his old colleagues, they who seemed so happy and eager to meet him, Grissom had had his eyes mostly pinned on Sara, the one who seemed so confused, so sad to see him back.

The way that guy held her close. The way they talked so close to each other. Grissom knew he stood no chance.

_Leonard._

_Leonard and Sara._

_Their names don't even go well together._

He sighed on realizing he sounded just like a heartbroken teenager_._

_Snap yourself out of it, least you will still have your old friends around. _

Pushing himself up, he told himself to move forward.

Physically.

Mentally.

Lean fingers he knew so well grasped his arm though, stopping him from making any move.

"Hey."

He turned around, blinking at the sight in front of him.

Had she been this beautiful when he had picked her up earlier?

"I thought you were my ride home."

Smart retorts automatically flashed in his mind but his mouth refused to open.

"We've left each other so many times before. Let's put that silly game to a rest this time."

He dared not look into her eyes, her words hitting too close to home.

If anything, their relationship had sometimes felt like a tiring game where the finishing line was nowhere in sight.

He kept silent as she guided him outside. The wait for the valet to bring his car over seemed to take forever.

And when they did get inside the car, he still didn't know what to do.

_I don't know what to do about this._

_Don't say that Grissom. Don't._

_This is probably your last chance. No. This is definitely your last chance. Do something. Say something._

_Get her back._

_Win her._

"Gil."

Now she had started the conversation, he had the courage to look at her.

_What was the __look that flashed__ in her eyes?_

_Sadness? No._

_ ._

"I'm already with someone."

He gripped the steering wheels hard, almost forgetting to take the turn at the intersection.

_Damn, it was so much worse hearing it from her._

"I love him; I have no idea how much and how deep, but I definitely want to build a future with him."

_Okay. I'll drive you home then I'll walk away from your life for good._

"But that doesn't necessarily mean we should stop caring about each other right?"

He stole a glance, extremely glad to see her small smile.

"We were friends first. What do you think if we try to be friends again this time?"

A few months ago, down the ravine, when there had been no option but reconsidering life, all he had wanted was not to die alone.

When death had seemed so close, all he could think of had been to take his last breath at home, in Sara's arms.

He had imagined his own funeral, where Jim, Catherine, Hodges, where all his friends smiled at the memory of him, where later toast would be heard to celebrate his life.

The thought of himself being nothing but a body in a crematorium, a lifeless being turned into ash without anyone to send his urn to, had petrified him so much.

Years of comfortable solitude had turned into a nightmare and his mind had changed then and there.

The determination to spend his last days around friends and his loved one had been set at that fearsome moment.

He had sworn to rebuild burnt-out bridges, to die as Sara's husband.

But who was he to bargain?

Who was he to stand between her and happiness once more?

He couldn't always be that selfish, right? Not when the end of his life was also near and her future spread brightly on the horizon.

"Yes, we can be friends." He offered a smile, a bitter one that is.

He knew the road ahead would be difficult to cross; at least that way he wouldn't cross it alone. "Good friends?"

"Good friend." Her smile broadened as she let out a heavy breath, her body visibly relaxing against the backrest.

His smile relaxed too, his grip of the steering wheel loosened, the road ahead seemed wider than a few minutes ago.

"Now that we're trying to be good friends, you can start by telling me what's happened."

He was surprised to feel her prying one of his hands off the wheel, clutching it on her lap.

"Huh?"

"Tell me everything."

"It's, umm, I-"

"Or you can drop me right here right now."

He frowned at her threat, recognizing the teasing tone but still felt a little intimidated.

_Did she always come across this strong before?_

_Yeah, she did._

He smiled at the old memories. "And let…what's his name? Leonard? pick you up? Nah."

Their eyes met, their smiles a match. He sighed, retracting his hand from hers, raking his hair to stall the moment.

_You'll__ never get another chance, Gil._

With that realization words came out of him like rain.

He started from the beginning. The day when he had thought something was wrong with his digestive system.

He told her about the day when the doctor had dropped the bomb. About the second, the third, and the fourth opinion, all bad news he had heard over the last six years.

Her hand reached for his again at the part where he told her about the dreaded possibility of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation.

He verbally recalled the research, about all the good it had done to her. She laughed a little when he listed the kinds of foods on his current diet, when he grumpily told her about the strict rules against his particular favorite meal.

When he told her about the intermittent fasting, the regular exercise, and meditations she eagerly supplied her knowledge about the subjects, saying that they should do it together sometimes.

She seemed so encouraging and caring, even promising to visit the facility despite the distance.

If only he had been smarter, wiser, he would have had this lovely support since the beginning.

_Well, people didn't call it regret for nothing_.

Halfway through his story they reached her place.

He reluctantly opened the passenger door, watching mournfully as she stepped out.

"Jim and the guys have planned to meet up tomorrow. Do you think you can come?" he said, unable to suppress the hopeful tone.

"Sure, tell Jim to send me the details."

"You can bring Leonard if you want."

Her eyes twinkled, "You'll get the chance to know him later. In better circumstances, I promise."

He mumbled an okay, ready to drive off when she called him.

"Yeah?"

"And I promise I'll stay by your side this time. Promised."

He nodded. "Thank you."

_Thank you, Sara. Thank you so much._

- 0 0 0 -

**epilogue**

"This is nice," Greg lifted his glass, clinked it to hers. "You did good."

"Thank you." Her eyes wandered to the people around.

Jim and Catherine sat at one corner, talking about something fun, because Catherine was visibly sneering.

Nick, Wendy, and Mia were on another corner, their attention on the many pictures on the wall.

Hodges and Henry were visibly arguing over the origin of a mounted butterfly.

_Pseudaletis leonis_; his gift to celebrate her first visit to the facility.

Morgan was intent on reading one of the many journals from the desk.

The familiar desk stored so many memories of him.

Al, of many people, rested on the couch with one leg on the coffee table. He got the scrapbook Sara made specifically for this one moment in his hands, reading it with a smile.

She might have shed a few tears planning and rearranging all these things into one occasion.

It was definitely not easy to gather everything about him into one place .

But it was definitely worth the atmosphere in this room, worth the familiar faces that showed up to show how much he had been loved.

"You okay?"

"I'm great, Greg."

"Agreed. Need someone so great to pull this up." He spread his hands toward the room.

"You helped."

"A little."

"And I'm sure you'll help me again packing these things up."

"Sure. In fact, leave it all to me. I'll pack, I'll send, I'll donate, I'll secretly keep a few precious things to myself," he winked, "You go get a holiday or something."

She looked at him incredulously.

"What? You deserve it. These have been exhausting weeks, months, for you."

Had it been that long?

Where had this entire thing started?

When he had picked her up for Greg's wedding?

When he had called from the facility, asking to be brought back to Vegas?

When the doctor had told them there was nothing else they could do?

When he had lain helpless in her arms, his breathing shallow and his eyes closed? That sad moment when she had lost him for good?

_Ah. It didn't even matter anymore._

What truly mattered was he had spent his last days here, at home, surrounded by people who care for him.

She looked around one more time, basking at the presence of everyone important to Grissom.

_This is how you wanted to be remembered, right dear?_

She lifted up her glass a little, toasting him anywhere he was right now.

"To Grissom?" Greg interrupted.

"To Grissom."

Sara might have mourned a few weeks ago, she even cried a little at his funeral, but today she strangely felt uplifted. She felt happy.

And she bet he was happy too.

Her glass clinked once more with Greg's.

She was in the middle of enjoying the taste of Grissom's favorite whiskey when her phone rang.

A message from Leonard.

"_Are you still up for tomorrow's date?"_

She smiled, closing her eyes to think for a second.

"Greg."

"Yeah," Greg sneered, peeking over the phone that Sara immediately held close to her chest.

"I'm going to take your offer of a holiday."

"I figured as much."

**E.N.D**

This is one special story I dedicated to Sylvie. If I hadn't been a total sloth this would have been wrapped as her birthday present. I'm sorry Sensei.


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